first thing I’d like to do is have each of you show us what you packed in your coach’s bag.”
Haley looked around the room. Coach’s bag? Had there been instructions on the website about assembling, much less bringing, a coach’s bag? She’d brought two pillows, but only because Claire told her to, and she wasn’t even sure why she needed those. But it seemed as though everyone else had gotten the message, as they unzipped small duffels or backpacks.
“I forgot—”
Claire touched her arm. “I’ve got it right here. I am the coach, after all.”
Right. Claire was the coach. Haley was the mom-to-be.
“All right, Claire.” Lily turned toward them. “Do you want to show us what you brought to help Haley during labor?”
“Absolutely.” Claire opened the purple floral Vera Bradley messenger bag that Haley had assumed was one of her many purses. “I brought a CD I made of some of Haley’s favorite songs—she’s a country music fan. I’m willing to tolerate some Keith Urban and The Band Perry while she’s in labor. I also brought some of my favorite lotion, because, well, I have no idea if Haley even uses lotion. It’s almond scented.”
Within five minutes, a pile of coach’s supplies lay at Claire’s feet: a bright red sock with two tennis balls in it to help with back labor; a brush, just in case Haley wanted Claire to brush her hair; a tiny stuffed bear to use as a focal point; some John Wayne DVDs.
Haley picked up The Comancheros . “Movies, really?”
Claire shrugged. “Well, you’re hoping and praying for a quick labor . . . but just in case.”
The next two hours consisted of the other coaches revealing what they’d packed in their bags—a two-pound bag of peanutM&M’s? Why hadn’t Claire packed that?—and then the moms-to-be resting on their sides while their coaches learned how to massage their shoulders, lower backs, even their feet.
Haley wasn’t surprised that the instructor sought her out when the class was over. Lily touched her arm as Haley pulled on her gloves. Claire, who could make friends with anyone, chatted with Camilo and Feliciana, the couple expecting triplets.
“So, Haley.”
“Yes?”
“How was class for you?”
Images of trying to spell her name with her hips replayed through her head. “Interesting. Not sure I’m going to be up for that hula-hip name-spelling exercise when I’m actually in labor.”
“It’s an option.” Lily paused. “You did take my business card, right?”
Haley patted her coat pocket. “Have it right here.”
“I want you to know that I understand how you’re feeling.”
Oh. Another “I understand how you’re feeling” person.
Lily’s gentle smile hinted that Haley hadn’t hidden her reaction. “I mean, I really do. My husband died of a brain aneurysm when I was pregnant with our second child.”
Her words collided with Haley’s barricaded heart. “How . . . far along were you?”
“Not quite as far along as you are now. Five months.” Age lines bracketed her smile, and her gray eyes were clear. Haley’s heart seemed to lean toward this woman whom she’d met only two hours earlier. “I didn’t know how I was going to have a baby without Tom there with me.”
“What did you do?”
“I went from never wanting to have the baby to thinking I’d be pregnant forever.” At Haley’s soft snort of laughter, Lily’ssmile broadened. “Believe me, every pregnant woman ends up thinking that.”
“Obviously you had your baby.”
“My mom was with me when our daughter was born. I held my child and bawled for half an hour. Counted her toes. Her fingers. That’s what Tom would have done.”
“Claire’s my best friend.” Haley tucked her hands into her coat pockets. “She hasn’t had any children yet, but I know she’ll stay with me.”
“Well, if you want any more support, just know that I’m available to help you during labor too. Tuck my card in your labor bag.”
“I need to pack one
Haley looked around the room. Coach’s bag? Had there been instructions on the website about assembling, much less bringing, a coach’s bag? She’d brought two pillows, but only because Claire told her to, and she wasn’t even sure why she needed those. But it seemed as though everyone else had gotten the message, as they unzipped small duffels or backpacks.
“I forgot—”
Claire touched her arm. “I’ve got it right here. I am the coach, after all.”
Right. Claire was the coach. Haley was the mom-to-be.
“All right, Claire.” Lily turned toward them. “Do you want to show us what you brought to help Haley during labor?”
“Absolutely.” Claire opened the purple floral Vera Bradley messenger bag that Haley had assumed was one of her many purses. “I brought a CD I made of some of Haley’s favorite songs—she’s a country music fan. I’m willing to tolerate some Keith Urban and The Band Perry while she’s in labor. I also brought some of my favorite lotion, because, well, I have no idea if Haley even uses lotion. It’s almond scented.”
Within five minutes, a pile of coach’s supplies lay at Claire’s feet: a bright red sock with two tennis balls in it to help with back labor; a brush, just in case Haley wanted Claire to brush her hair; a tiny stuffed bear to use as a focal point; some John Wayne DVDs.
Haley picked up The Comancheros . “Movies, really?”
Claire shrugged. “Well, you’re hoping and praying for a quick labor . . . but just in case.”
The next two hours consisted of the other coaches revealing what they’d packed in their bags—a two-pound bag of peanutM&M’s? Why hadn’t Claire packed that?—and then the moms-to-be resting on their sides while their coaches learned how to massage their shoulders, lower backs, even their feet.
Haley wasn’t surprised that the instructor sought her out when the class was over. Lily touched her arm as Haley pulled on her gloves. Claire, who could make friends with anyone, chatted with Camilo and Feliciana, the couple expecting triplets.
“So, Haley.”
“Yes?”
“How was class for you?”
Images of trying to spell her name with her hips replayed through her head. “Interesting. Not sure I’m going to be up for that hula-hip name-spelling exercise when I’m actually in labor.”
“It’s an option.” Lily paused. “You did take my business card, right?”
Haley patted her coat pocket. “Have it right here.”
“I want you to know that I understand how you’re feeling.”
Oh. Another “I understand how you’re feeling” person.
Lily’s gentle smile hinted that Haley hadn’t hidden her reaction. “I mean, I really do. My husband died of a brain aneurysm when I was pregnant with our second child.”
Her words collided with Haley’s barricaded heart. “How . . . far along were you?”
“Not quite as far along as you are now. Five months.” Age lines bracketed her smile, and her gray eyes were clear. Haley’s heart seemed to lean toward this woman whom she’d met only two hours earlier. “I didn’t know how I was going to have a baby without Tom there with me.”
“What did you do?”
“I went from never wanting to have the baby to thinking I’d be pregnant forever.” At Haley’s soft snort of laughter, Lily’ssmile broadened. “Believe me, every pregnant woman ends up thinking that.”
“Obviously you had your baby.”
“My mom was with me when our daughter was born. I held my child and bawled for half an hour. Counted her toes. Her fingers. That’s what Tom would have done.”
“Claire’s my best friend.” Haley tucked her hands into her coat pockets. “She hasn’t had any children yet, but I know she’ll stay with me.”
“Well, if you want any more support, just know that I’m available to help you during labor too. Tuck my card in your labor bag.”
“I need to pack one
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